Number Nine slid into the back seat of the Benz, the leather cool against his spine. He leaned back and closed his eyes, breathing once as if that might drain the night out of him. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and empty.
"Molly, take me home."
She did not answer. The engine purred as the car pulled away, city lights sliding past the windows in long streaks. Her focus stayed on the road. Then his voice came again, lower this time, threaded with something darker.
"He lied to me."
Molly glanced over, her brow tightening. "What?"
"He lied to me," Nine said again, slower now, each word pressed flat. "He fucking lied to me."
Silence filled the car. Then understanding surfaced in her voice.
"Luka?"
Nine nodded, his jaw set as he stared at the roof. "I disappear for a couple of years and this is what I come back to. People lying straight to my face."
Molly said nothing. She let the car keep moving, the steady hum of the engine a thin shield against the storm building inside him. The drive felt longer than it should have.
When they reached his building, Nine stepped out without a word and headed for the entrance. Molly followed, her heels tapping softly behind him.
Inside the apartment, the familiar stillness settled around him. Clean lines. Sparse furniture. Quiet. What caught his attention was Molly. She was already moving through the space, folding clothes, setting things in order, preparing the kitchen as if this had been routine. When she noticed him watching, she stopped and waited.
"I made food," she said lightly. "But I have to go. I've got a date."
Her eyes stayed on him, calm and unreadable.
Nine crossed the room without haste. The dim light stretched his shadow across the floor as he stopped in front of her. He studied her in silence, the tightness in her shoulders, the way her hands hovered at her sides as if unsure where to rest.
Then he stepped closer. His fingers brushed her temple and guided her head gently toward him. The motion was slow and deliberate. He kissed her forehead, brief and controlled.
"You have my blessing," he said softly, almost amused.
Molly did not move at first. Then she gave a small nod. Whatever passed between them did not need words.
Nine held her there a moment longer, watching the tension ease from her frame. There was finality in the gesture. That was how he operated. He spoke with actions.
She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "I'll see myself out," she said, meeting his eyes once before turning away.
Her heels echoed across the floor as she left. The door closed behind her with a quiet click.
Nine remained where he was, his back to the hallway. The warmth she left behind faded quickly. He moved to the window and looked out at the city, though his thoughts were elsewhere, circling darker ground.
Time passed unnoticed. The city noise blurred into something distant and dull as he replayed Luka's words, testing them for fractures. Lies hid best in silence. He had lived long enough to know that. Whatever game was being played, it was already in motion.
Footsteps broke the quiet.
His hand went to the gun at his waist as he turned. The steps were fast, too fast. Then a heavy bang echoed through the hallway, followed by a shout cut short.
Silence.
Nine moved to the door and pressed his ear to the wood. The air felt tight, loaded. His instincts sharpened, old and unforgiving.
Whoever was out there had not come by accident.